Chapter Twenty-Four
The Big Wedding
I'm already standing at the altar, waiting for my bride.
Regan's dad walks up the aisle beside her with dewy eyes, then hands his daughter over to me at the altar. Just as John sits down among the pews, Regan faces me.
And I get a little choked up. Me. The tough quarterback.
I clasp her hands in mine as the minister begins the ceremony.
The weight of her father's proud gaze, my mother's tearful smile, and the collective expectation of our loved ones hangs in the air.
I'd be nervous if we hadn't already done this once before---just the two of us, a justice of the peace, and the Cascade mountains as witnesses.
That was our moment. This is for everyone else.
The minister drones on about the sanctity of marriage while we exchange secret glances.
I swear her eyes are saying, "Can you believe we're getting away with this?
" When we repeat our vows, they flow more easily this time, rehearsed yet also genuine.
I mean every word just as much as I did three days ago when we stood barefoot on that mountain overlook.
When the minister pronounces, "You may now kiss the bride," I dip Regan dramatically. That earns laughs from the crowd and a playful eye-roll from my wife. My wife. I still get a kick out of thinking those words.
"Showoff," she whispers as our lips brush.
Then I kiss her in earnest.
The church erupts in applause and cheers as we turn to face our families and friends. I survey the crowd, catching my Bigfoots teammates whooping and hollering in the back pews. A subtle nod from Coach Ernie somehow means more than all the shouting combined.
As we proceed down the aisle, hand in hand, I lean in close to Regan's ear. "One ceremony down, one reception to go. Still time to back out of our grand revelation."
"Not a chance," she squeezes my hand. "I want to see my mother's face when she realizes we tricked her into planning our reception instead of our wedding."
My college roommate slaps me on the back and whispers something about how I've "caught a trophy wife for sure." I fight the urge to correct him. Regan's Olympic medals are the real trophies in our relationship. But I know he was just razzing me.
The receiving line outside the church takes forever, a blur of congratulations and hugs and cheek kisses.
Finally, we escape to the limo that will take us to the reception. The second the door shuts behind us, Regan kicks off her heels, and I loosen my tie. We collapse against each other, laughing like teenagers.
"I think we pulled it off," I say, clasping her hand and kissing the knuckles just above where her rings sit. "Though I swear your dad was looking at me like he knew something was up."
"Dad's always looking at you like that." She snuggles against me. "He still thinks you're corrupting his little girl."
"If only he knew it was the other way around." I wink and press a kiss to her temple.
"So," Regan begins, tracing a finger down my lapel, "how long do you think it'll take them to recover from the shock?"
"Oh, at least until our first anniversary." I imagine the scene we're about to create and how our families will react. "Your mom might never speak to me again."
Regan waves a dismissive hand. "Mom will get over it once she realizes she still gets all the photos she wanted.
" My bride stretches her legs across my lap, somehow making it look elegant even in her tastefully gorgeous wedding dress.
"Besides, we gave them exactly what they wanted---the big church wedding, the flowers, the dress. We simply added our own twist."
The limo glides through the streets of Portland, the home of the Bigfoots team, and feel like the luckiest guy alive.
Three days ago, I was standing at the lowest elevation of the Tualatin Mountains near sunset, watching Regan say "I do" while wearing hiking boots and a casual white sundress.
Now we're gliding toward a reception hall full of unsuspecting guests who think they just witnessed history instead of its reenactment.
"You think they'll be mad?" Regan asks, a hint of vulnerability breaking through her usual confidence.
"Not mad. Shocked, for sure. Betrayed? Maybe. But ultimately, I believe they'll appreciate our cunning." I adjust my cufflinks, suddenly feeling a flutter of nerves. "Besides, we're adults. We wanted something that was just for us before we shared it with the world."
The limo slows as we approach the Grand Ballroom, and I can already see the crowd gathering outside.
My Bigfoots teammates are easy to spot---a cluster of oversized suits and boisterous laughter.
Coach Harmon stands off to the side, maintaining his dignified distance while still being part of the celebration.
"Ready for phase two, Mrs. Hannigan?" I ask, giving Regan's hand a squeeze.
"Born ready, Mr. Hannigan." She straightens my tie. "Let's go give them the shock of their lives."
The door opens and I help Regan out of the limo, careful not to step on her dress. The photographer captures our grand entrance as we make our way into the reception hall, where the DJ announces us as "Mr. and Mrs. Hannigan" for what everyone thinks is the first time.
Regan's coach, Bohdan, intercepts us before we can reach the head table. He breaks into a rare grin as he clasps my shoulder with surprising strength. "You take care of her training schedule, yes? Season starts soon. Do not let her eat junk foods."
"Don't worry, Bohdan," I assure him. "Her career is as important to me as it is to her. She won't slack off."
Regan throws me a grateful glance as Bohdan gives her a fatherly hug before releasing us to our seats.
We both have lots of practices ahead of us, with Regan lacing up her skates and me on the gridiron.
We want kids, of course, but not yet. My wife is waiting to hear if she's made it onto the US Winter Olympics team, while I'm working my butt off training for the last games leading up to the Super Bowl.
The juggling act of our careers and marriage will be challenging.
But somehow, as I gaze at Regan's face, I know we'll make it work.
We've already defied expectations. Why stop now?
We've become the ultimate power couple in the sports world, and that's one thing I never imagined would happen.
I found the right woman at last, something I'd written off as impossible. Not anymore.
We've just walked into our new, larger apartment that has big-ass windows and privacy too, thanks to the fact we're up on the top floor.
I insisted on carrying Regan into the elevator and not letting her down until we were inside our luxurious pad.
My bride deserves the best of everything.
Regan is my soulmate. I never used to believe in that stuff, but now I do.
I set my wife down and kiss her. "About time we christened this place."
"And by 'christen,' you mean 'screw. Right?'"
"What else did you think it meant?"
The doorbell rings, making us both jump.
I set my wife down. "Gimme a sec to get rid of whatever jackass is out there."
Regan stays beside me while I crack the door open. My eyes go wide. "Chandra? What are you doing here?"
I gape at my ex-girlfriend, completely dumbfounded. Chandra Sherazi is the last person I expected to see at our door, especially today of all days. But I know I'm about to learn the answer to my question, whether I like it or not.